


Why not? (Do something stupid)

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Body Shots, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Consensual, Cussing, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Feelings, Kissing, Last Night on Earth, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neck Kissing, Not Canon Compliant, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Season/Series 05, The Apocalypse, The Impala (Supernatural), but also follows canon, the handprint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: It's their last night on Earth... probably. So why not do something stupid. Like body shots off an Angel's neck.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	Why not? (Do something stupid)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shebswinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shebswinchester/gifts).



> For Shereen on Spn Thursdays server
> 
> I hope y'all like it.

From the looks of it, Ellen had challenged Cas to a round of shots. Which was a damn stupid idea. But what the hell? They were gonna try to corner the devil the next morning, so in all likelihood, this was their last night on Earth. So why not do something stupid and fun? 

He almost propositioned Jo before his stomach caught up to him, and helpfully reminded him that if anything she was a little sister or annoying younger cousin and that was past stupid and firmly in the realm of gross. And even if they didn’t have a history, he wasn’t that much into blondes anymore. 

Against his better judgment, he takes a few shots. Now it seems it’s more Cas vs Ellen and him and Jo. And somehow Cas is still fucking winning. 

Sam has had three beers and he’s laughing at them from the corner. 

Bobby makes them pose for a group picture and they try to ignore the fact that he might be left in this house alone after tomorrow, with all the rest of them dead and gone. 

Then Jo finds the tequila and whiskey Bobby was trying to hide from them and the party really starts. And by party, Dean means a series of bad decisions made around people that will either A: join in on, or B: laugh at you and hand you another drink. 

Somehow Cas loses his tie, this is after god knows how many shots of hard liquor (anyone else would’a been dead an hour ago). And his shirt is unbuttoned at least three or four down from the collar. The line of Cas’s throat, and all the skin… it sure was something pretty to look at. Angelic skin normally covered up by Cas’s holy tax-accountant get-up. Dean was hungry or maybe he was thirsty and that skin looked fucking delicious. (Damn he needed a good fuck, but the idea of going to get some was unthinkable, then he’d have to _leave_ , and he wouldn’t get to see all that pretty skin). (And no, he was not gonna think about how he shouldn’t be thinking that about Cas’s skin). (And he was not gonna think about it because Cas was a dude… maybe). (Correction, he wasn’t gonna think of it because Cas _wasn’t_ a dude… wait). (Maybe he was not gonna think about it because Cas was probably some huge fucking monstrosity of angel mojo stuffed into the body of a tax-accountant). (Or maybe he was not gonna think about that because Cas was a virgin and he got so red and embarrassed when Dean had tried to help change that… with the help of Chastity). (Or maybe he wasn’t gonna think about it because guys were not supposed to get hard-ons looking at other guy’s _necks_ , especially when the other guy was an awkward and weird angel who hoisted his sorry ass outta hell and did not ask for any sort of sexual perversion). 

He was staring. Great. Sam, of course, noticed and elbowed him in the ribs, making a suggestion that Dean could not refuse, especially not with Jo cheering him on, Ellen and Bobby pacing themselves in the corner with twin looks of amusement. (And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to do it). So, what the hell? It was probably their last night on Earth, why not do something stupid and fun? 

Cas, a lot less drunk than he should’ve been but decidedly tipsy, listens intently to Sam’s instructions. Dean is only 60% sure that Cas is listening. But Cas agrees to their stupid idea with a face pink from the amount of allcolhol -- _booze_ \-- he drank and probably cuz he felt warm cuz all the shots. Yeah, that was it. 

Then Jo drags Sam over by the shoulder and they're both hanging off of each other's shoulders to stay upright (How does that work?) and snickering like the annoying kid siblings they were. 

Cas goes still like he's suddenly made of stone the second Dean’s tongue meets the skin of his throat. He tastes like skin, which seems stupid to think about because _no duh_. But it's a different skin taste than Dean's, not that Dean has licked himself outside of getting wing sauce and fry seasoning off his fingers and lips. He drags his tongue up the column of Cas’s throat, quickly dumps the thing of salt Sam gave him from fucking _somewhere_ (he hopes it isn't the window-sill salt) before his tongue is back on Cas’s throat and he's realizing just how still Cas has become. 

Like stone isn't a good description. Cuz stone, for all its hardness and not-movingness, is cold. And Cas sure as shit ain't cold. His skin is firm and soft in that weird way that living flesh is when somebody goes tense and he's warm as… well he's _warm_. 

Then there's a shot-glass of tequila in his hand and Dean swallow it before realizing what a monumentally stupid idea it was to frickin' lick Cas. _Fuck._

He just licked an angel on the neck. He licked Castiel; 'I raised you from perdition' angel of the lord on the neck. And worse yet, he did it _twice_. And possibly worst of all; he wanted to do it again.

Sam and Jo are giggling like hyenas or whatever those laughing Australian birds are called. Dean has also helpfully forgotten that Cas agreed to the neck-licking in the first place. 

Cas’s eyes are dark. Narrowed with a dangerous intensity. In moments like these, you could tell that he was larger than life, larger than the kinda scrawny human body he inhabited. Dean had half a mind to run, surely he would be smited (smitten? _smat??_ ) for his crime. (His crime of fucking _licking_ him). But Cas moves before Dean’s brain and body --sluggish with booze and almost frozen with fear-- can get the chance. 

Then _lips_ are pressing against his lips. A mouth against his mouth. The press is too firm, just a bit too much, just a tad too strong. He can feel his bottom lip being smashed into his teeth, the skin starting to tear and worry. 

Cas is kissing him. Cas is _kissing him_. With all the gusto and strength and none of the abandon and absolutely no damn experience or practical knowledge of how to do so. And _damn,_ it's good. 

He feels bad when he pushes Cas away by the shoulders. (Cas doesn't resist the push, he _lets_ Dean push him, because they both frickin' know just how immovable Cas actually is). Cas licks his lips, lips which Dean has had a borderline shameful obsession with since they met, because they're really fucking plump and really frickin' pink. Cas’s gaze is on his mouth, like all he wants to do is kiss Dean _again_. And Dean is drunk enough and high enough off that first kiss to decide: _fuck it, why not?_

The room is quiet now. With a tension that wasn't there before. Like Dean isn't the only one who doesn't know how to react to the fact Cas just fucking _kissed_ him. 

"I was wondering when one of you idjits would do something," Bobby says, "Been getting sick of this 'just friends' bullshit," 

Sam has broken into a grin that meant nothing but trouble and Ellen is smiling knowingly. Jo whoops at them and Dean has had enough, and would also like to maybe continue what Cas started without an audience. 

Cas hasn't moved his stare from Dean's mouth, and while his face is flushed he doesn't look like he gives a damn that they have an audience. He's like laser-focused. And that's what decides it. Last night on Earth and all. Dean's already gotten kissed by this angel, he might as well continue and see where this goes, before he goes chicken shit and loses his nerve. 

"C'mon Cas," he says, grabbing the angel by the cuff of his stupid trench coat and _tugging_ , Cas follows without question. (And Dean is _not_ gonna think about how hot that is). (Or maybe he _will…_ since he's being brave or stupid or whatever).

Some folks snicker behind them, Dean is pretty sure it was Sam and Jo. (At this point Joanna Beth was no doubt recruited to the annoying younger sibling cause). 

Cas follows him out through the door and they're both a little wobbly on their feet but not so bad. The world isn't really spinning. (Except that it is, because day and night and shit). Dean isn't dizzy and he knows where his feet are, and he knows where he is, and Cas is, and where Baby is. And that's what's important. 

He turns as they arrive to where Baby is parked, blending in like the beautiful shiny shadow she is in the night. (And maybe shadows aren't shiny, but Baby _is_. So, shut up Sammy). 

He let go of the sleeve cuff, instead taking ahold of the stupid lapels of the stupid trench coat that he is starting to like more than he should. (Because trench coat = Cas, and Cas is… yeah). He pulls the really old but somehow still a virgin creature/being in by these lapels and Cas takes the cue; planting his lips back where they should be; on Dean's. (And Dean isn't gonna think about how right this feels, even though Cas is still a little too rough and his aim is a little off and their noses are kinda in the way). 

Pushing Cas off is harder the second time around, now that Cas knows kissing is okay. But he gets the request and pulls back with a bit of a frickin' pout. (Ain't that adorable?) 

“Why’d you kiss me? In there, why’d you-?”

Cas frowns; “Because I wanted to.” 

“But I’m a man,” and Dean really wants to have not just said that because… reasons. 

“I am aware of that, Dean,” Cas replies in a tone that sounds an awful lot like; _I’m not an idiot, Dean._ And maybe Dean deserves that. “I am an angel, does that make a difference to you?”

“You _are_ an angel, you’re- you could-” Dean can’t honestly say that Cas could kiss anyone, not with the way he’d handled the Chastity situation, and if that hadn’t been a fluke? “What do ya want to kiss me for?” 

Cas tilts his head and does that squinty-scowl thing, “You are… important to me, Dean.” And as nice as that sounds and makes his throat close up, it’s not an answer and Cas can’t possibly mean… (Why couldn’t he mean that?) (Because Anna said he was just like the other angels, he wasn’t capable of feeling like a human.) (Because if he did… what would Dean do?) (Because if he did then Dean had dirtied this pure, holy creature). 

“I rebelled _against Heaven_ for you Dean, I care about you, Dean, you are my-” Dean wonders if Cas would be so honest if he wasn’t tipsy. (He would be, Cas doesn’t really do anything except brutal honesty.) (And Cas doesn’t lie to him, Dean knows that but doesn’t wanna think about how he knows it.)

“Friends don’t really _kiss,_ Cas,” he says, stupidly. Stepping sideways to put some distance between them because he’s a coward. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know a better word,” Cas says, and Dean is going to find some way to keep his mouth closed so that he doesn’t- (Wait a second, a _better word_?) (Did that mean-) 

(No. Dean was not going to hope for that, because... _because_.) 

Cas continues; “But you should know that you are the only friend I have a desire to kiss.” 

Then Dean chokes on his own spit like a fucking moron. When he looks up Cas leaning towards him with concern, a hand reaching to steady him. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he chokes out, “ _Desire_ huh?” he asks, shoving his metaphorical foot back in his metaphorical mouth again. (Why did he let himself drink or talk?) Then Dean asks the worst question of all, the one he wants to know the answer of so much that he should really know that it shouldn’t be on his mind. 

The question is; “How long have you _desired_ to kiss me?”

And he can’t take it back now, he’s said it and Cas already heard it and they’re both tipsy, and probably dying the next day so maybe it’s okay that he’s being so monumentally frickin’ stupid. 

“I’m not sure,” Cas starts with a thoughtful frown, “Maybe since I saw you kiss Anna,” and _whoa,_ that had been much longer than Dean ever thought. He’d thought that sad look Cas had given him had something to do with the fact he’d been sent there to kill his former boss. And to hell with that stupid cowardice, last night on Earth and all. Dean does what he should’ve done on Cas's first last night on Earth; he gets close and kisses the angel for all he’s worth. (And it’s crazy how Cas lets himself be pulled and kissed and how he frickin’ _melts_ into it, before pushing back up into it). (Cas is still not that great at kissing, but that’s something Dean can teach him). (And teaching him… well, it’s not a bad way to spend their last night or whatever). 

Dean tries to show Cas how to kiss better, leading by example and all that, tilting his head so that their noses don’t press together awkwardly. Cas, for what it’s worth (everything, it’s worth _every-fucking-thing_ ), is a quick learner. He follows the unspoken hints and the kiss gets a whole lot better (not that it was ever bad to begin with). 

And since Dean’s done (maybe) (probably) being a coward, he lets his tongue into the equation, slipping it out against the seam of Cas’s ridiculous lips. Then his tongue is in Cas’s mouth and he didn’t think he’d get this far. Cas’s mouth tastes like hard liquor and like any other human mouth, but it’s also better because it’s Cas’s mouth. (And as much as it doesn’t make sense, it also _does,_ because _it’s Cas_.) 

When they part this time their lips are wet and there’s a gross but also sexy string of spit connecting their panting mouths like a rope bridge. Dean can’t remember if Cas came off his mouth on his own or if Dean had enforced the end of that kiss. 

“Get in,” Dean pants with a purpose, knocking on the glass of Baby’s backseat window. Within a blink and the swooshing sound of wings Cas is gone. Dean opens the door to find the angel seated inside, leaning towards the open door. Dean can’t help the stupid grin beaking across his face, he climbs in, happy to be pulled by the flannel into yet another hungry kiss. Sadly, Dean has to cut it short. (But there’ll be plenty of that later.) He shuts the door behind him. 

“Were those your first?” he asks, even though he is pretty sure, what with Cas being a virgin and all. 

Cas pouted, staring at his mouth like it was a moral crime that he wasn’t being allowed to kiss it in that exact moment. 

“Were those your first kisses?” he asks again, hoping this time Cas will grace him with an answer. 

“Isn’t that obvious?” Cas responds, mood turning a little bitchy (not that Dean will tell him that). (He values his life and limbs.) (He would like to keep his kissing privileges.) (And he _really_ doesn't want to fuck up whatever it is they have now.)

“Not teasing,” Dean says, raising his hands in a show of peace. (And he was definitely thinking about how awesome it is that no one else got to kiss Cas, to know what it felt like.) (And maybe that makes Dean really selfish and narcissistic, but he can’t help it, now that he’s had _that_ he’s glad he’s the only one. He doesn’t want to share this, share Cas.) (And maybe he should take a step back from thinking about stuff like that.) (Because Cas isn’t _his_.) (And because Dean shouldn’t want him to be.) (But his traitor of a heart still asks why he shouldn’t want that.)

"You had sex with Anna in here," Cas speaks, breaking the silence and pulling Dean quickly out of his head. He isn’t sure how Cas knows that. He isn’t sure he _wants_ to know how Cas knows. And _damn!_ (He feels bad for hooking up with Cas’s ex-boss.) (He _never_ feels back for hook-ups, what is happening to him?)

“That didn’t mean anything.” (Oh, _he_ said that.) He hadn’t even noticed his mouth moving until the words were out, in the open. And he decides that he’s already come _this_ far; “I wanted her to have a good night because she was gonna die in the morning,” he breathes, making sure his gaze is steady and that Cas can see his honesty, “I want you to have a good night _every_ night.”

Instead of a verbal question or answer Cas leans in closer, face flushed, so that their warm breath is mixing, so that their noses are less than a hair away from each other. It’s a request. (And Dean can’t pinpoint how he knows that, but he _does._ ) Dean answers in kind, closing the tiny distance still between their mouths. 

This kiss is different than the ones they had before. It’s not harsh, it’s pressure but it’s a different kind of pressure. It’s a different kind of hunger. 

Cas’s ridiculous lips are ridiculously plush and still wet from where he’d licked them. This kiss is sweet, but not in flavor. It’s intensely warm and the fire in his chest is so much more than lust. That feeling is Cas. It’s warmth and fondness and comradery. It’s the smell of the grass after a thunderstorm and it’s the warm summer wind that carried the storm. And it’s Cas, _it’s Cas._

When they part this time, Dean has to catch his breath for so many more reasons than he could count. (And he’s feeling a bit more sober now, and _really frickin’ happy._ ) 

At some point during the kiss Dean had brought his hand up to cup Cas’s jaw. And despite everything-- despite being a force of reckoning and a bomb’s worth of angel mojo and being older than Dean even wants to begin to understand-- Cas leans into it, like a dopey little nerd. 

Dean raises his other hand to the side of Cas’s neck. The skin there is smooth and almost soft, not like the prickly stubble of the angel's jaw against his other palm. The difference is really really interesting and important for reasons he can't explain even if he wanted to. He moves the hand on Cas’s neck to hold at his nape, his gaze locked and roaming up and down the column of his throat and following the lines of his jaw and the curves of his lips. (Lips that are at least a little swollen and pinker than ever, shiny with wetness.) 

"You wanna kiss some more?" he asks, because he has to, he has to know that Cas wants this too. He’s already been so selfish, he doesn't want there to be even a chance of him making Cas do something he doesn’t want to. (Even though Cas is more than capable of refusing to do something if he doesn’t want to.) (Part of him is convinced that Cas would do something for him even if he didn’t want to.) (He doesn’t want to think about Cas just going along with Dean’s selfish stupid wants to keep the peace or whatever.) (And the selfish part of him really wants to hear Cas say he wants to kiss him again.)

"Yes," Cas breathes, the word barely even a whisper on his stupidly kissable lips. The whisper is reverant and Dean pushes that to the back burner, he can think about it later. Right now he has something more important to do. 

He uses every trick he knows, using his tongue to do wicked things to the pure being, twisting his fingers in the short hair at his nape and tugging. He feels hungry and depraved and he can feel the lecherous corrupting effect he’s having on Cas. (And part of him, the selfish part, is so satisfied that it can twist an angel to desire him… to plant carnal desires in him.) (Another part of him wants to push him away, keep from corrupting Cas, because is good and he’s-)

Cas lets out a sound and all of Dean’s higher brian function stops. He can’t categorize the noise, because that would take thinking and thinking is not something he can do right now, thanks. He has one purpose and mission and that is: getting Cas to make that noise again, and again, _and again_. 

Cas has moved his hands, he’s clinging onto Dean’s shoulders with a grip that could easily crush bones if he isn’t careful. And it’s _wild_ how his grip is so strong and harsh but Dean knows Cas is being gentle with him, because he knows Cas could really hurt him so easily. And he _doesn’t_. Cas’s hand on his left shoulder is vice-like and he can feel a pulsing in the handprint Cas left there before they officially met. Cas is holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping him on Earth. (And Dean can be that, he can be an anchor and weigh him down, keep him from drifting and soaring too far.)

Cas’s lips don’t taste like much of anything, maybe spit, maybe a bit of alcohol, but they’re fucking delicious all the same. Because they’re Cas’s lips, Dean can’t fucking get enough of them. Pink and spit-slick and swollen. They feel amazing against his lips and almost better between his teeth with the whine that it pulls from Cas. Cas’s tongue tastes like less but it’s wonderful to feel against his, exploring his mouth with reverence and wonder that Dean distantly feels undeserving of (but it’s so _Cas_ he can’t put a stop to it). 

Dean migrates slowly, to the corner of Cas’s lips, down his stumbled cheek (pointy and prickly against his mouth), Cas’s breath tickles his cheek and his ear. Cas moans and whines and it sounds like gospel, it’s precious and important and for Dean’s ears only. A prayer to _him_. Then he’s back at the thing that started all of this: Cas’s neck. Licking and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses just under his ear then down the column of his throat. Pushing the stupid trench coat and shirt and blazer down and to the side so he can continue across Cas’s collarbone. Cas holds him tight by the shoulders, flexing his fingers into and out of his flannel and shirt underneath, a strange, unskilled parody of a massage. (Not that Dean’s ever had a real massage.)

There are words mixed in with Cas’s gasps, _more_ and _please_ and a few that must be Enochian. But mostly it’s his name, repeated like it’s something holy. And Dean loves the way Cas says his name, the way he whispers it, and gasps it. He sucks and nips at the junction between neck and shoulder and Cas _moans_ his name. And it’s such a glorious sound, maybe especially since he feels like his tarnishing of Cas’s halo has only made Cas shine brighter. Cas is a thing of beauty and grace and Dean has got him in his hands, tipsy and a picture of lust and debauchery. Dean thinks that this sin (if it can even be called that) makes Cas all the more pure, all the more holy. (Because it’s Cas, because it’s honest.)

He presses a kiss over the mark and revels in the shudder of Cas in his hands and the racing pulse against his lips. He kisses the hollow of Cas’s throat, feeling the angel’s breaths and swallows against his nose. Then he does something absolutely wicked; he sucks a mark, above that last kiss, just below the angel’s adam’s apple. Cas chokes out a moan or maybe a whine that sounds distinctly like his name. And it’s the most beautiful thing he’s heard that night. 

Dean pulls away, admiring the pink flush and red marks that he’s left, he decides Cas’s neck is so much prettier with them. Then he dives back in, licking a stripe from the hollow of his throat up the center over the most recent mark and his adam’s apple, ending it where Cas’s throat meets his chin. He doesn’t get to admire his work as long this time. 

Cas’s blue (so blue) eyes are dark and hooded, not quite hazy but definitely determined and lustful. His hair is a worse fucking mess than usual, his trench coat and dark blazer hanging off his shoulders and his shirt partially unbuttoned and collar pulled to the side. Flushed face, flushed and marked neck, swollen, wet lips. 

Cas’s hands leave his shoulders. One around the side of his neck, with delicate looking fingers pressed harshly into his nape and thumb pushing up into his jaw and hauling him back in. Their teeth clack through their lips and Cas’s other hand rips at the collar of his t-shirt, pulling it to the side and pushing his hand underneath. Cas kisses him like a fucking hurricane, his hand finds the mark he left. (His hand, fitting against the handprint so perfectly.) Bare skin to bare skin, it’s like fire and electricity and really fucking intense and more than anything it feels _right_. Cas feels right against him. 

Even like this the way Cas touches him, kisses him feels good, pure, it feels like praise and faith. (And Cas has that in him, faith.) Cas kisses and touches him like he’s going to pop out of existence any second, like he doesn’t have enough time to cherish it. So instead he savors Dean with a righteous fury, an intensity like wind tearing at your clothes and biting at your skin. And surely this must be a sin, how good this feels, and yet it makes him feel holy. 

Dean is sure that if he hadn’t already damned the angel Castiel, he has now. Worshiping false idols and all that. Seducing him from the orders of Heaven. Tempting him into rebelion. And now into his sinful embrace. The righteous man who broke the first seal and set the path for the Apocalypse to start, converting the angel who saved him to a cause against Heaven. 

Maybe this is damnation, that they’re committing in the backseat of Baby. But Dean doesn’t fucking care. Because it’s Cas, because Cas has always been special, honest, trustworthy, loyal. He doesn’t fucking care because Heaven is a bunch of corrupt beaurocrats anyway and who knows if God even fucking cares that the world is ending? Dean doesn’t fucking care because Cas is gonna help them save the fucking world from everybody. (And that makes this holy in his books, regardless of what anyone else says.)

Dean kisses the angel he never thought he’d be so fond for and Cas kisses him right on back. (And Dean wonders if Cas ever thought he’d be here, now.) It’s possibly their last night on Earth and they spend it kissing each other silly like horny teenagers in Baby’s backseat. 

Dean wakes up to find himself leaning back against a warm chest, fingers gently petting through his hair. He’s somehow got himself sitting half-sideways inbetween Cas’s legs, with his head against the angel’s shoulder. He doesn't quite remember how he got in that position and is not surprised to find his flannel thrown on the front bench seat with Cas’s trench coat. Cas’s blazer is still on, though it’s wrinkled to all hell and his shirt is still very much unbuttoned and pulled to the side to display the hickeys Dean had given him. Cas’s eyes are lidded with a softness that makes Dean’s heart stutter and his stomach roll. 

It’s the way Cas looks at him when he’s happy or being endearing. And then it hits Dean. Cas didn’t just want to kiss him. Cas really had liked him. (Which seems like a very stupid discovery, since Cas and several other angels had outright told him _to his face_ that Cas _liked_ him.)

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says like it’s his favorite thing in the world. (And maybe it is.)

“Good morning,” he chokes out, blinking like a frickin’ moron. (They might’ve worked out some of their communication and feelings issues but it would still take a while for Dean to get used to this.) (To get used to someone caring about him.) (Someone who he didn’t raise or save or fix-up cars for.) (But, _fuck,_ he wants to. He wants to be cared for, and Cas is right here and Cas is looking at him like _that._ )

Cas’s eyes do the happy squint thing and the corners of his lips turn upward. And the amount of sappy thoughts that come to Dean’s mind is far too many. (And it feels like his heart is doing some sort of happy song and dance, as stupid as that sounds.) (Goddamn feelings.) 

Dean can’t trust himself to say something, so instead he moves to taste that smile and see if it is as sweet as it looks. (It is.) (And he feels like a blushing stupid teenager for even thinking that.) 

He helps Cas back into his trench coat and buttoning up his shirt. And by helps he means Cas smiled happily as he buttoned it up for him. Cas presses his fingers where the marks lay under his shirt and Dean maybe chokes just a bit. And Cas (the bastard) grins all the more. 

After a few kisses more chaste and significantly less tongue than the night before, Dean pulls Cas out into the morning air and towards Bobby’s kitchen where they can get aspirin, breakfast, and hopefully find Cas’s tie. 

Ellen is sitting at the table with Bobby and some coffee. Jo is facedown on the couch, groaning about sunlight. 

“Nice of you to join us. You boys have fun?” Ellen asks with a smirk that Jo definitely inherited from her. Dean is suddenly aware that he’s still holding onto Cas’s wrist. 

“If you idjits want bacon you’re gonna have to make it yourselves,” Bobby snipes, with that grumpy old man tone he used to hide that he was all sappy in the center. 

Dean rolls his eyes and heads to the freezer, not minding the way Cas tailed after him like a duck on a string. He gets one of those breakfast pocket meal things out of the freezer and tosses it in the microwave, turning to lean against the counter while he waits. Cas settles next to him, leaning against the sink.

Sammy walks in with a serious bedhead, bleary eyed and by the looks of it a little hungover. Dean catches the exact second Sam realizes the red and purple spots on Cas aren’t his eyes playing tricks on him. Jo has sat up and is rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“What did Cas do to your neck?” Sam asks, gesturing to his right side (Dean’s left). Dean mirrors, his fingers finding the thing in question. Cas had tried to give him a few hickeys, which had ended up being all so close together with so much teeth and pressure, it stung to touch it. (Cas had apologized profusely, then apologized that he couldn’t heal it, and it had been cute. Not that Dean would ever admit that out loud.)

Dean gives his brother a _do you really have to ask_ look just as the angel in question answers. 

“Dean is helping me with my ‘sexual awakening’,” Cas says with a straight face and frickin’ _finger quotes_ , and Dean catches one of Cas’s wrists and pushes his arm down. (With hardly any force but Cas _complies_ , and it’s frickin’ wild how Cas just _lets_ Dean move him). (And he is not gonna think about that because he’d only just got up the courage to act on this thing with Cas _last night_ ). (And he is not gonna think about how Cas’s brutal honesty thing is maybe going to be the death of him.)

Bobby snorts, Ellen smirks into her coffee cup, and Jo lets out a belt of laughter. Sam gives them a look that his half impressed and half obnoxious little brother promises for future teasing. And he also manages to mix in a little of _please don’t give me any more details_ because he’s Sammy and Sammy is talented in the ways of little brother-ing. 

Dean finds Cas’s tie on the ceiling fan. And they head off to smoke the devil out of a small town and hopefully stop the end of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this would be 1-2k then I thought it would be 3k... then I thought it would be 4k.  
> And now here it is at a whopping 5.5k  
> I was never in charge of this story... Dean was and he kept fucking interrupting to have feelings and doubts and shit. 
> 
> Anyway I hope y'all like it. I had lots of fun writing it.


End file.
